


Stop, Drop & Roll

by joonfired



Series: it's smut o'clock in Mandorin land, boys [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bottom Corin, Corin is set loose, Dirty Talk, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, Morning Sex, Non-Graphic Smut, Paz is DONE with walk ins, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pt2 was written sober, Resolved Sexual Tension, Top Din Djarin, Touch-Starved, consensual possessiveness, wall slamming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonfired/pseuds/joonfired
Summary: These two finally get it on
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: it's smut o'clock in Mandorin land, boys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623514
Comments: 59
Kudos: 355





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> I've been emboldened by discord  
> this is the result

Corin is out of his mind and he knows it. Why else would he have grabbed Din by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall, his face hovering just a whisper away from the Mandalorian’s helmet?

It was late, they’d maybe been drinking a little, and as they walked back to their room Din had coughed.

But the cough hadn’t set him mad . . . no. It was the shadowed curve of collarbones and the arc of a neck revealed when Din pulled at the collar of his shirt while clearing his throat that broke something inside of Corin he didn’t want to fix.

“What’s this about?” Din asks.

“You,” Corin murmurs, lifting a hand to open that unbuttoned collar.

He traces the pads of his fingers along the swooping lines of Din’s collarbones, dipping a little bit down to the hidden muscular swell of the man’s chest. Touching this Mandalorian is more intoxicating than alcohol.

“Finally?”

“Hmm?” Corin drags his gaze away from its obsession with that lovely tease of skin. “What do you mean?”

Din makes a frustrated sound and yanks his gloves off. He frames Corin’s face with large, calloused hands that are a little damp from wearing the gloves, but curl with wonderful possessiveness against his jawline. Din’s thumbs brush against his cheekbones in gentle, soothing touches.

“You are such a beautiful, wonderful, ridiculous idiot,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Corin laughs in good-humored self-depreciation.

“You,” Din mutters, lightly thumping his helmet against Corin’s forehead, “are driving me crazy.”

“That’s nice,” Corin replies with a giggle, drawing small circles around the raised end of one collarbone.

And then he moves forward, pinning the Mandalorian even further against the wall with his thighs and hips. The man makes a surprised grunt, his length swelling to life between them.

Corin is already hardening and this time he’s not shy. He pushes himself against Din, rolling his hips a little at the end.

Kriff, this feels _good_.

Din’s hands fall down and grab onto Corin’s hips, fingers digging in, urging him to keep moving. He tips his helmet back against the wall with a choked sound, exposing more of his neck.

Corin dives for that vulnerability, lips latching on with a desperation he cannot fully explain.

“Oh,” Din says, followed by a garbled string of Mando’a. And then, “Corin, we should, _ahh_ , probably move, oh _starssss_ , to a, _uhhhh_ , room.”

“Yeah,” he replies against the man’s neck.

He’s had a taste and he cannot stop tasting.

They stumble in the dim, hands roaming and switching roles as to who pins who against the wall, until they come to a doorway and fall through. Corin thinks he closes the door, and Din mutters “relax, it’s locked”, and then come together again in the dark.

Fingers fumble to straps and unbuckle armor, which falls to the floor with exciting clangs of barriers giving way to Corin’s eager hands. Din reaches a hand down, palm pressed flat against Corin’s stomach and slowly, slowly falling lower.

“Is this okay?” Din asks into the dark.

“Kriff, _yes_ ,” Corin pants, grabbing his wrist and pulling that hand down where he wants it.

He groans recklessly when those fingers wrap around what they can hold in his pants, stroking nice and gentle. He thrusts his hips against the touch, begging for more . . . but hisses when a stroke comes at a wrong angle.

“Patience,” Din says.

Corin doesn’t know patience right now. He gropes blindly, finding shoulders and then the edge of Din’s helmet, pulling their foreheads together again in the sign of affection he’s known best from this man.

“Wait,” Din growls, pulling sharply away. “Wait, wait, wait.”

He grunts and there’s the sound of something large clattering to the floor.

Corin knows what just happened, but it doesn’t fully register with him until he feels a scruffy jaw collide awkwardly with his nose. Din’s hand comes up, finds his jaw, and then lips press warm and soft and eager against his mouth.

Corin squawks with surprise, pulling back on instinct . . . even though instincts also tell him to find that mouth again and never give it up.

“ _What_?” he gasps.

“Don’t think right now, _cyar’ika_ ,” Din murmurs, fingers curling up his jaw and around the back of his neck, pulling him in without resistance.

He wants to make this last as long as possible, take the time to linger over details like the feel of Din’s hair laced through his fingers and the pulse of his neck beating hot against Corin’s lips. But he _wants_ so much, for the first time he has so much, so he doesn’t stop, doesn’t thinking beyond the _wanting_.

There is so much to explore in this panting darkness.

They fall back and find somewhere on the floor that is a little softer, a little warmer. It feels like a bed, but newly blind men aren’t sure of very much, so neither are they.

Corin pulls Din on top of him, needing to feel his presence pressing down. He likes the sensation of raw trust as he writhes naked and needy. He is drunk on the heat of his skin and held willingly captive by the steady movement of Din’s hand against his pulsing, slickening length.

He reaches for that same low-hanging wonderful area, but is avoided with a chuckle from lips pressing teasingly down the center of his chest.

“Patience,” Din repeats softly.

“Can’t,” Corin wheezes, back arching as that _hand_ twists in a particularly amazing way.

“Patience,” he says again, nuzzling against Corin’s neck, nipping at his ear.

He doesn’t know how this man can touch him so well, rendering him useless in the rolling, growing waves of pleasure. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t _care_ , because it is getting so good, so good, _so good_ . . .

“I . . . I think,” he manages.

Din kisses him hard, pulling at his bottom lip. He shifts his hips up, finally letting Corin touch him, trying to mimic the way he’s being touched. His knees squeeze against Corin’s hips, their thighs pressing tight together, muscles taut, straining in unison.

And then Din’s length shivers and the man groans long and low and shuddering.

But Corin barely hears, barely registers anything as he hits that sweet ache of release. He claws at Din’s shoulders with his free hand and yells, lifting his hips up, up, up into those still moving fingers.

“Shh, shh,” Din murmurs, still shaking through his own release.

Corin is still whimpering and chasing after the last pieces of pleasure with careful, desperate pushes of his hips. He is so, so sensitive now, every little brush of skin sending aftershocks of _good_ through his system, so when Din trails fingers down even _lower_ , it’s hard to stay quiet.

“Please,” he says, but he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“I know,” Din huffs, collapsing on top of him.

Corin gladly takes the weight, wrapping his sweat-sticky arms around the unarmored body above him and holding tight. And then he starts laughing, soft and a little bit awkward.

“What?”

“Your helmet,” Corin giggles. “You took off your helmet for _me_.”

“Of course,” Din whispered, lifting his head to kiss Corin’s forehead. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything, huh?” Corin drawls.

He doesn’t hear the reply as Din lets him roll onto his side, curling around him from behind. Something warm is thrown over their entwined bodies, Corin closes his eyes, and sleeps.


	2. In The Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the morning-after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to go off of anon bc I'm already writing so much other smut that more isn't gonna make me look any less innocent ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Corin wakes up slowly and then all at once. And he knows two things.

First, that the weight of an arm slung across his stomach means the explicit memories aren't ones he dreamed but a reality of the past. And secondly, that past explains why he is a little, er,  _ raw _ feeling on a certain important part of his body.

But the ache is a good one, twitching him from morning stiff to true hardness.

He rolls over —

—and is nose-to-nose with the face of a stranger.

For one panicked moment, Corin wonders how much of his memory  _ was _ a dream. How much he had imagined softening the fact that he’d slept with someone, not really caring about details whilst wrapped in a tipsy haze . . .

The man in front of him opens his eyes, hooded with sleep, and smiles faintly.

“Corin,” he says softly.

And Corin exhales in a blast of relief, panic ebbing away under the power of that familiar voice.

“Din,” he replies, suddenly shy. “Uh, good morning.”

He wonders if he shouldn’t stare, but Corin can’t help himself from drinking in the rough beauty of Din’s bared face. How there is  _ so much _ shining in those dark eyes, the corners crinkling in with a smile. He reaches for the crooked line of his Mandalorian’s nose, running a fingertip down and then tracing the velvety swell of his mouth.

The same mouth that pulls up in such a simple expression that reaches into Corin’s heart and  _ squeezes _ .

“Are you going to get in trouble for this?” he asks.

Din blinks slow and shakes his head, his smile widening as he reaches for Corin.

“No,  _ ner kar’ta _ ,” he murmurs. “You are mine, and I am yours. There is no reason for boundaries.”

“Oh,” Corin says.

What else can he say to something so beautiful as that?

Actually, he doesn’t have to say anything, because Din leans up on an elbow, curls flopping so damn sexily into his loving gaze, and kisses him.

It’s slow and sweet and little bit nightbreath, but nothing overtly noticeable. Corin basks in the way Din touches him so carefully, so confidently, taking every part of him as both a gift he doesn’t deserve but also so possessively.

“Stars, kriff me,” Corin mutters when Din shifts to nestle atop him, a heated thigh brushing against his hardness.

“May I?” Din asks with a wicked smile.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Corin groans, gripping his shoulders tight. “Please.”

Din grunts in acknowledgement, ducking his head to mouth at Corin’s neck as his hand works along his sensitive cock. 

Corin tips his head back with a moan, allowing Din more access to his throat. He writhes when the man’s tongue finds his pulse and lingers there, hot and swiping. And when Din shifts down, first his chest, then his stomach, and finally  _ there _ , he cannot contain the yell that bursts out.

Din chuckles, mouth vibrating around him with the sound. Corin reaches down and runs his hands through Din’s hair.

When Corin opens his eyes and can’t help but groan in appreciation at the sight of the tousled head between his legs. Something pulses hot and heavy deep in his stomach, his breath quickening as he watches himself slide in and out of Din’s lips, as he feels that wonderful tongue swirling around him. His grip tightens in Din’s hair as he instinctively pushes his head down so he can go just a little deeper, a little faster.

But Din catches his wrist and holds him firmly, glancing up through his lashes with a hot, sinful look.

“Not so fast,” Din says, rising up.

Corin doesn’t want to end this moment. He wants to forever float in this paradise of touching and tasting and looking directly into the eyes of the man he loves. But he can’t easily control his body’s desires, a whine slipping out of his throat as he twitches his hips up in a begging motion.

Din just smiles, inserting a finger into his mouth in a show of what he’d just been doing to Corin.

When he lowers his head again, that wet finger presses down somewhere lower, causing Corin to yelp.

He’s only touched himself there a few times, a little too shy, too hasty to get off to really explore, but he knows what Din’s goal is now and Corin absolutely approves.

“I want you,” Corin mumbles, his words like groans as Din takes him back inside his mouth. “I want you inside of me, filling me, moving with me.”

“Fuck,” Din pants, pushing the finger inside.

“More,” Corin begs, pushing himself against that too-small invasion. “I can handle it.”

“Just a moment.”

It’s more than a moment, wetness and one finger changed to three moving and twisting, stretching him. But then finally Din rises up on his knees, licking a palm and stroking himself quickly before he presses against his waiting entrance.

Corin is done being patient, rising up on his palms, feet braced as he thrusts against Din, pushing his tip inside.

“Corin,” Din groans, hand falling to squeeze his hip, jaw clenched.

“I want you in me,” Corin says firmly. “Now.”

And Din obeys with a swift thrust of his hips, seating himself almost fully inside.

Corin stifles something that feels like a scream as he falls back onto their makeshift bed, hips rising as he tries to get that pulsing length deeper inside him. When Din starts moving, slow and steady, he rhythmically hits that little, sensitive knot again and again, turning Corin something almost-feral.

“More,” he pleads, fingers digging into Din’s hips, holding him close, flexing thighs slapping against his ass.

“So selfish,” Din chuckles breathlessly, already slamming hard and heavy into him.

Corin knows he can finish any minute just from the way Din is moving inside him, filling him and stroking that wonderful part inside him . . . but then a hand shifts from pressing against his hipbone to wrap around his throbbing, aching cock.

He breaks apart with an unchecked sound that feels like a scream but echoes deep in his chest. 

He’s spurting and shuddering and saying over and over, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” while rocking against Din, who is still thrusting, chasing his own finish with barely-checked groans.

When Din comes, it’s quieter. But Corin opens his eyes to see the myriad of emotions racing across those features he has yet to memorize, or how the lines of Din’s neck stand out as he tips his head back, bottom lip caught between the teeth that his groans keep slipping out of. He watches the rippling roll of muscles in his Corin-slick stomach and legs, how taut Din’s arms are as he still holds Corin’s hips in a deathgrip—

Once he’s spent, Din relaxes and leans forward, slipping out as he presses tired kisses along Corin’s jaw and the edges of his mouth. Corin reaches up to hold the man tight against their panting bodies, skin sticking with sweat and  _ other _ liquids.

“How did I get so lucky to have you love me?” he whispers.

He’s blessed to see Din’s eyes looking so steadily back at him, mouth a little slack from their exertions.

But before he gets a reply, the door opens and a large, armored figure walks in . . . and promptly stops with an explosive string of words in Mando’a.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Paz continues in basic, whirling around. “Enjoy your new room, Corin.”

The door shuts again and they hear stomping footsteps. Corin giggles in confusion and euphora from the pleasure still running through his veins.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“It means,” Din replies, flopping down next to him to pull him into an embrace, “that this used to be Paz’s room.”

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous bc my regular subscribers might cause drama  
> but it's joonie fire here <3 <3


End file.
